Death ends a life, not a relationship
by caremkefo
Summary: After Sam died Dean retired from hunting and settled down. Throughout the years Castiel never left him, and never aged. But it couldn't last forever.


Castiel glanced over to the couch where Dean was sitting, beer in hand, watching the game. The years had been kind to his friend, his lover, his partner.

When Sam had died, his dying breath spent warning Dean that if he brought him back he would never forgive him, Dean had thrown himself into hunt after hunt, barely eating and barely sleeping – not that he'd ever slept much before, anyway. Castiel had stayed with him after he'd bid his brother a final farewell, never nagging him to eat or sleep, but always making sure that there was food waiting there for when he wanted it - pie, of course.

Eventually, Dean gave up hunting. Though Castiel tried, he would never be as good a hunter as Sam. Dean may treat him like family, but he wasn't family enough to keep the Winchester 'family business' going.

And so Dean became a mechanic, putting his skills to good use, and for the first time since he was four years old had a roof over his head that he could call his own. His job didn't necessarily pay all that well, but it was enough to pay the bills. Things were tight, given Castiel's inability to find a job – the angel had found his 'people skills' to be more non-existent than 'rusty' - but they were happy. And Castiel's unemployment allowed him the time to learn to cook, so that he could have some small use in Dean's life.

He loved Dean. He wasn't quite sure when it was he'd fallen for him, but fallen he had. And hard. They had settled into an easy routine with each other over the years; though Castiel would never deny his relief when Dean stopped making passing comments about Castiel returning to Heaven to do 'angel things'' – he had chosen to live with Dean until his dying day, but had begun to believe that Dean would never get over his fear of everyone he cared about leaving him. And so for forty years he'd stayed by Dean's side. That was his life, now – looking after Dean; a life that he knew was nearing its end, and soon, given the way the glow from Dean's soul had been fading these past few days.

"You know you shouldn't be drinking when you're on your meds," he called over from the kitchenette.

"You only get one life, Cas! And I'm damned well gonna enjoy it."

Castiel moved over to the couch and when Dean held his hand out Cas took it, intertwining their fingers and allowing Dean to pull him down beside him.

"Here, let me," he said, moving two fingers to Dean's side when he winced, but Dean swatted his hand away.

"It's called old age, Cas. I never thought I'd reach it, so I'm just going to enjoy the creaking bones, tired muscles, and aching back. Okay?"

Castiel cocked his head to the side, mapping the lines across his face.

"Stop that, will you? You're making me feel even older than I am." Dean coughed, and soon he was wheezing. "God damn it, Cas. I don't know how you can stand to look at me – I mean, you're still the same you I stabbed the first time I saw you, and I'm…" He flailed a hand at himself. "Well, look at me!"

"Dean, you are still the same man I fought my way through Hell to save, and who repaid my efforts by trying to kill me. And besides, wrinkles and sagging skin are a part of getting old and only to be expected, and getting old is a sign that you are making full use of my Father's gift of life, so I will _always_ love you - no matter how less often I know you look in the mirror," Castiel finished with a smile.

Dean looked at his angel – and he'd never stopped thinking of Castiel as _his_ angel because really, nearly half a century and he still couldn't believe that an angel of the Lord could find something in his broken and blackened soul worth loving – and swallowed. "I love you. I know I've never said that before, even though I should have been telling you it every day, and I guess it's mainly because I just take it for granted that you already know how I feel, but… I do. I really do."

"I love you, too," Castiel replied, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. "And I have always known that you've loved me. Even before you knew it yourself." He brushed his free hand through Dean's silvery hair, wondering how everything about him could fade in his old age _except_ the intense green in his eyes. He smiled softly.

"What?" Dean frowned. "Do I have something on my face?"

Castiel shook his head. "I'm just thinking about how lucky I am that it was I who was chosen to free you," he said.

Dean scoffed. "I don't know about that—"

"I do." Castiel snuggled down beside him. Dean didn't have that long left. "So who's winning?"

"Cas, you and I both know that after all these years you still don't know jack shit about football," Dean laughed. "But I'll tell you what – you finish baking that pie, and I know just who's going to win later tonight…" he grinned, that familiar playful spark in his eyes.

Castiel wanted so desperately to sit by Dean's side in his final moments, but knew that if he did Dean would insist on knowing _why_, and he didn't want Dean to know that his time was nearly up. He wanted Dean's last moments to be happy ones, regardless of what he himself wanted.

He pressed a soft kiss to Dean's lips. "Is that a promise?" he asked, willing back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Always," Dean murmured against his lips.

Dean winced again as Castiel stood up, and the angel wished he could make Dean's last moments painless.

Instead he busied himself on making Dean the perfect pie, hearing the cheers from the TV as a team scored but barely registering the softly muffled _thump_ that came from the living area a few moments later, and when he put the pie in the oven and looked back over at Dean the last glow from his soul had faded into nothingness, his beer bottle lying on the floor, its contents spilling out and staining the thick carpet.

Even as the tears slid down silently down his cheeks Castiel knew that Dean would be happy in Heaven, safe with Sam and his parents and all those who had loved him. He looked up as he spread his wings for the first time in forty years, flying himself home. Not that Heaven had been home to him for over half a century but now _Dean_ was there, and his home was with Dean. He knew he still had things to take care of down on Earth - he was the only family Dean had left and so would need to report his death, organise his funeral, the house would need to be sold... He'd need to hunt down the few old friends who would like the chance to say goodbye to Dean, and thank him one last time, even if Dean hadn't spoken to most of them since he'd given up hunting - Jody, Charlie, Garth, even Linda Tran. But all that could wait. The most important thing now was to make sure that Dean arrived safely in Heaven.


End file.
